Worth

Nevada Desert, April 2016

The golden figure sat at the crossroads. Next to him was a branch, planted in the ground, A bleached cow skull was tied to it.

"You cannot save them all," it whispered.

"Why not?"

"They are not worth saving."

"What," said the golden figure, "defines worth?"

---

"Fucking imbecile! Get out! Clear your desk!"

The underling - Victoria had already forgotten his name - fled the office. She let out the breath and turned to the window of the office.

Some people, she thought, just did not want to try. They just wanted to coast on by, putting in the barest amount of work. Like that one. He'd been pioneering a new show, the most insipid reality stuff ever. They had thirty channels of that. They'd lost money, and he'd lost his job. It was fine, he'd been wasting time on his phone most days anyway. Worthless idiot. She hated people who didn't even try, who didn't even want to try.

She breathed in, counted to ten, and looked out at the SanSan skyline. Hoppers flitted between the skyscrapers, mirroring her thoughts. It was okay. They could recover. Projected profits from the Fast Food district of their new Franchise City in Mojave would cover it, easily. But she needed cheering up now. Failure made her tetchy. She couldn't handle failure.

It was okay. She had something to take her mind off of it. She pinged her receptionist.

"Get me Jackson Howard," she said.

A few minutes later, he entered. He carried his usual aura of innocence, and his sunny grin and blue eyes calmed her down immensely.

Jackson Howard had worth. He had a mind that wandered into genius entirely by accident, and a personality that only had occasional brushes with negativity. His naivety was a comfort to her, both from a practical and an emotional standpoint. What better pick for the Executive of Child Programming than someone who could still think like one? She put on her best smile.

"Hello, Jackson."

"Hello, Victoria!" Jackson moved like he was about to bound. "What did you need me for?"

"You know the raffle Harpsichord Studios ran? The skeletons won it." Victoria brought up a holopic and sent it floating over to him. "Yes, I know. That place is strange. Anyway, they look pretty marketable and I think we can get a sitcom out of them. A few seasons worth." She didn't mention the bugs - things like that upset him. "Do you think you can make anything with these."

Jackson peered at the image. "Um... Well, they have pretty rounded edges, they don't seem too scary... probably?" He suddenly brightened. "Oh! There's these new learning brains I wanted to try! The ones Haas-Bioroid made available? I think maybe putting them in some dolls will be great! They could respond and give feedback and - "

"Okay, I've heard enough." Victoria clapped her hands together. "You'll get funding. Hop to it!"

"Thank you, Victoria!"

As Jackson practically skipped out of the room, Victoria turned and began to contact his project managers, because someone had to keep their head on around here.

---

"It is greatness of deed." Sand whispered through the skull's eye sockets. "Those who accomplish much in life are of value to others."

"There are those in power who are despised, and those who had power who died because of it. Power and deed are not measure of worth."

The road stretched to the horizon.

"Then it is... goodness." The words sounded harsh.

---

He was dead.

The man stood at the grave. A simple wooden cross. They needed the stone for the abbey.

He'd been there. Always. Since the coach crashed, since they'd reached the hamlet. They'd faced the necromancer together and brought the monster down. They'd shared stories, shared drinks, shared secrets. He couldn't be gone. It wasn't -

"Sean?"

He turned. She was waiting for him. She didn't say anything more.

"Go," he whispered. "I'll be with you soon."

She nodded and left. He turned, ran a gauntlet-clad hand over the wood.

"Goodbye, Dimitri."

He left.

---

"Some are good. Not all."

"Then what do you think worth is?" The skull rattled in the wind. "Who is worth your attention, golden one?"

Julius got to his feet. His armor was dirty and his wings ragged.

"They are all worth saving," he said, "because to judge a person's worth as if they are material goods is wrong."

"Until proven otherwise," hissed the voice.

"No." Julius looked down at the skull, eyes flaring. "There is always a chance. People do not understand that they are important and needed and that others depend on them. They see the miracle that is life around them and they find it dull, or even frightening. Every day they walk in shells, and they never open themselves to others."

The sun beat down upon them.

"Oh. Love." The voice dripped with disgust.

"Yes. The ultimate act of bravery is to reveal your true self to somebody, and to offer to handle the other person's trueness with care and respect. That is the most beautiful and precious thing in the world."

"Love is useless." The skull shuddered. "Love kills. Love can be broken. Love does not inspire greatness, it inspires restriction and mediocrity. Love does not gain power or riches."

"Leonardo da Vinci loved to create. Mozart loved to make music. Love enables greatness. Love has done all of these things and more. And nobody should measure themselves by impossible standards. Love is enough."

"Do you love her?"

Julius paused.

"It does not matter," he said, slowly.

"It does." The skull ceased all movement. "For if what you say is true, then you must not hide yourself in a cage of gold. You must let them know the truth. Not today, not tomorrow, but soon. For what you did and what you have seen must be made known. And when you do, there will be a war. Know this."

Julius nodded.

"Thank you."

"You are welcome. Don't be a stranger. It is lonely here."

The astral knight began to walk, leaving nothing but a bleached cow skull, stuck at an empty crossroads in the desert.